


Ours

by thechaoscryptid



Series: Every Day I'm Tumblin' [30]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, But also, Domestic, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, trans Meis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: “You’re gonna be late for work,” Gueira says. If it comes out a little breathier than he intended, less commanding and more beggingplease,Meis, be late for work today, well...it certainly isn’thisfault.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare)
Series: Every Day I'm Tumblin' [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483538
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	Ours

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first 800 words as a lil tumblr prompt and forgot about it for months, and then when I went back to fetch it for putting on AO3 decided it could use porn, so here we are.

It’s a rare thing for Gueira to rise before Meis. Always has been, likely always will be, but sometimes the sun hits his eyes just right and he wakes to find himself wholly wrapped in the other man’s arms. The closeness has become their normal, something that transcends their days on the run and the subsequent loss of the Promare. It’s what reminds him that through it all, he has a  _ home. _

Meis shifts, swallows, and clings tighter, one leg wrapping around Gueira’s to render him largely immobile. Gueira doesn’t mind--they have time before the alarm, and Meis deserves the rest. He’s been helping Lio with the resettlement efforts, always coming home late and leaving early and stressed up to his ears as he talks law and prejudice.

It's okay.

It’s not easy dealing firsthand with the protesters.

Sometimes they come down to the station, undeterred by Ignis or Varys or any of Lucia’s toys as they shout at them about having ex-Burnish on the force, but those incidents are decreasing as people realize that they still need Burning Rescue. It was  _ really _ awkward when one reporter’s home was on fire and she nearly turned him away…

Yeah, Meis deserves another five minutes, even though his foot is freezing on the inside of Gueira’s thigh.

The city itself is beginning to wake, trains rumbling along their tracks to the sound of honking horns and birds just outside the window. If Gueira closes his eyes and concentrates, the outside noises fade to the soft  _ whoosh _ of his heartbeat in his ears, the gentle in and out of Meis’s breath as it rolls evenly across his shoulder. His hair is piled high on his head in a bun, barely disturbed because somehow he manages not to move very much, something Gueira’s never understood.

Maybe he's just a little more chill.

Maybe.

Gueira tries not to strain too hard as he reaches back to switch off the alarm, squinting into the sun and doing his best to leave his left arm to Meis as a makeshift pillow. Against all odds, it  _ works-- _ another rare thing, after so long on the run--and he’s left with  _ his _ choice of wake up call.

He starts slowly, grazing his knuckles along the thin strip of stomach revealed where Meis’s shirt’s ridden up. Meis says it feels sort of gross, but Gueira likes it. Having food readily available means that they’re not bordering on starvation at any given point, and it’s good to see Meis no longer drowning in even small shirts.

Meis’s brow knits when Gueira splays his free hand across his hip, the first sign his rest is coming to an end. He clutches harder to Gueira before moving to bury his face between shoulder and pillow, hiding from the world with an undignified huff. 

He doesn’t wake, though, so Gueira chalks it up to a win.

Lips twitching into a smile, he leans his head down to rest against Meis’s before slowly,  _ slowly _ tugging his arm out of the vice-grip Meis has on it. It earns him a grumble and more irritated burrowing, but Meis settles when Gueira maneuvers his head to rest against his chest. Well, not quite settles--he  _ accepts _ being moved, but Gueira feels the heaviness of his gaze as his eyes open.

Instead of words, Meis greets the morning with a low hum and the press of his lips against Gueira’s chin.

"You missed," Gueira mumbles.

Meis laughs, barely, as he pushes up on his elbow and leans over to press Gueira to the bed. His mouth is warm against Gueira’s forehead, as it skims down the bridge of his nose, and as he takes a breath and slots their lips together. 

Gueira  _ lives _ for these kisses, their slow, silent promises and heat that lingers even when Meis pulls away to brush Gueira’s hair away from his eyes.

“Better?” he asks, sleep-roughened and affectionate.

“Try again,” Gueira says. He shifts up to reach Meis, coming together once more as he slides a hand down the curve of Meis’s lower back. “Again--” another kiss-- “and...”

“You’re needy today,” Meis murmurs, moving to nibble just below the slope of Gueira’s jaw.

"Sorry?"

“Nah, ‘s nice. Good--” He leans away to yawn into the pillow. “Mn, good start to the morning. How long’ve you been up?”

“Long enough to think about making breakfast and then talking myself out of it.”

“Dick,” Meis says, and Gueira smirks at the half-hearted smack against the side of his head. “You’re having cereal, then, because I’m not cooking.”

Gueira tips his face to the side, baring his neck so Meis can worry at his pulse. Galo and Boss’ll give him hell for the mark when he goes back to work tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. He knows how they’ve defiled the supply closet and isn’t afraid to bring it up. 

Meis stops, nestles his head under Gueira’s chin before delicately biting down on his collarbone. “Skip breakfast,” he says. “Stay here with me for a while longer.”

“You’re a horrible influence,” Gueira says, tugging the hem of Meis's shirt down to cover the very distracting stretch of stomach. 

“I don’t think you believe that.”

“Of course not,” Gueira says, “but you might want to kiss me again, just so I can't complain about it."

The way Meis rubs his thumb in slow circles over the jut of Gueira’s hip should be illegal. He  _ knows  _ how it makes him melt and Gueira’s pretty positive he’s using it to his advantage this morning. Their tongues slide lazily together before Meis’s other hand tugs Gueira’s head to the opposite side, leaving the opposite side of his neck free for Meis to pay attention to.

Gueira’s a panting mess when Meis pulls back, a satisfied grin on his face.

“How about that?” he asks. “I didn’t hear any complaining.” He pries Gueira’s hand away from where it’s fisted in the sheets, only to lace their fingers together and position the arm above Gueira’s head. When he rolls his hips, he leans close to whisper, “Come take a shower with me if we’re not having breakfast, firefly.”

“You’re gonna be late for work,” Gueira says. If it comes out a little breathier than he intended, less commanding and more begging  _ please,  _ Meis, be late for work today, well...it certainly isn’t  _ his  _ fault.

Meis slings his leg over Gueira’s hip and sits up on his knees, palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxers. “I was dreamin’ about you,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Felt real nice, fucking you six ways from Sunday.”

“Of course it did. My husband tells me I’m a very good lay.” Gueira skims the back of his knuckles up and down the length of Meis’s thigh, revels in the way Meis’s answering laugh ripples through the room. He’s nearly blinded by the golden light glancing from Meis’s collarbone when he looks up. “How’d you fuck me?”

Pink bleeds into Meis’s face when Gueira’s eyes begin to roam. “Nice and slow, until you started begging,” he says. “Had you all tied up, spread out...real pretty with that black rope we used to have.” Gueira’s breath hitches when Meis grinds down dirty against his stomach, but Meis isn’t finished. “I rode you until you  _ cried.” _

“I would never!”

“Says the man who gets choked up over the UPS Dogs page,” Meis counters, and Gueira sputters indignantly, because he can’t exactly deny it when he’s been caught one too many times. “But I guess if you’re  _ really  _ feeling responsible--” Meis interrupts himself with a yawn, knitting his hands behind his head as he rolls his hips again. “Mm, I can just go jerk off in the shower.”

“Fuck you, no you’re not,” Gueira says. He pushes down on Meis’s thighs when he feels them bunching as though Meis  _ really does mean to leave,  _ like he’s  _ actually  _ going to work Gueira up and then  _ abandon  _ him.

Not in this bed.

Meis lets out a soft hiss when Gueira snakes up to latch onto his pulse, sucking hard as he winds an arm around Meis’s waist and pulls him impossibly closer. “Yeah, fuck me,” he teases. He lowers his lips to brush against the shell of Gueira’s ear. “I have a long day today and I’d love to feel it when I’m sitting and listening to all the pompous shi-- _ shits,”  _ he yelps, falling backward. “Fuck, Gueira!”

Grinning, Gueira looks down from his new post above his husband. Meis blinks up at him, still sleepy and a bit disoriented from being flipped so quickly, and this-- _ this  _ is what Gueira’s pictured ever since they met up on the run. He tucks a few strands of hair behind Meis’s ears as he leans in for a kiss, effectively silencing whatever dull work talk Meis was about to begin.

He’d much rather hear about how Meis wants him.

“Thinking about leaving me all alone in bed while you go make a mess in the shower,” he purrs, rutting against the vee of Meis’s hips. “I wouldn’t fucking let you, you know that.”

“Mn, I do.” Meis tugs at his shirt, nearly elbows Gueira in the face in his haste to get it off. “You’re easy.”

“Only for you.”

“Kill me with the cute shit when you’re inside me,” Meis murmurs against his cheek once they’ve settled back against each other. “I need it, baby.”

Gueira swallows and nods, loathe to pull away even though he knows the lube got tossed  _ somewhere  _ by the side of the bed last time they fucked. He’d meant to pick it up later but Meis had promised dinner and really, picking up could wait if it meant he got to watch Meis cook. It was good fucking food, though, so he only  _ half  _ regrets the thirty seconds it takes for him to rummage in the dirty clothes pile.

When he surfaces, Meis has done away with his boxers and has his legs spread, heavy-lidded eyes tracking Gueira’s every move as he sheds his own. His head tips back against the rumpled black comforter when he lowers a hand to stroke himself, little aborted half-whines escalating to a full-on whimper when Gueira’s cool fingers meet his hole. 

“Shit, you sound so good when you want me,” Gueira murmurs. He kisses just above Meis’s navel as he slips one in, lets his lashes brush against the sensitive skin and chuckles at the way Meis shivers under him. With the next, he lays a trail of heated, open mouthed kisses up Meis’s sternum before pausing at the tip of a scar and looking up in question.

“‘S fine, firefly,” Meis breathes distractedly. “Put your mouth on me.”

Gueira’s not exactly in the business of denying him, not when they have limited time and Meis is all but shoving his head against his chest. He lays his tongue flat against the hardened bud, Meis’s fingers twisted in his hair and heartbeat thundering next to Gueira’s ear. Meis’s low rumble of  _ please  _ is something he  _ experiences  _ more than hears, the vibrations traveling straight to his cock. 

Meis tugs him into a nearly frantic kiss when he pulls his fingers out and slicks himself. “Fuck me--like--you mean it,” he says, punctuating the words with a low groan when Gueira presses in all at once. “ _ Yes.” _

“Up,” Gueira orders, tapping his shoulders. When Meis settles his calves on them obediently, Gueira nips at the delicate inside of his knee.

It very nearly earns him a bloody nose, but it’s worth it to hear Meis try and stifle laughter even as he shoves at Gueira’s chest.

“That  _ tickles.” _

Gueira grins, snaps his hips forward to make Meis’s eyes roll back. It’s wild, just how hot the Meis’s hand bunching in the comforter is. Now and most times they fuck (and most other times if he’s being honest), he is  _ stunned  _ by the effortless grace in the arch of his back, the bow of his lips, and he takes one more moment just to stare before he leans forward and gives Meis what he’s asked for. Over and over he fucks into him, and over and over Meis looks every bit an angel as he takes all Gueira has to give.

Meis’s jaw drops open as Gueira reaches to cup his cheek, his hand coming up to cover Gueira’s to hold it firm as he kisses his palm. “Harder, hon,  _ harder,  _ I won’t break~”

“Hn,  _ fuck--”  _ Gueira’s voice cracks as his hips make contact with Meis’s, slick with sweat, lube, and Meis’s own wetness. “Touch yourself. It’s--early, too early.” He pauses for a second, shoves the hair out of his eyes so he can see the way Meis’s chest heaves when he unceremoniously pushes a hand between his legs. 

“Gueira,” Meis whines. It’s a thin and reedy prayer spiralling to the ceiling, repeated thrust after thrust until Gueira feels the telltale shiver in his husband’s thighs. “I’m gonna--can I--”

Gueira nods, steeling himself against the way Meis tightens around him until those shivers become quakes, Meis’s orgasm rippling through him as Gueira chases after his own. He finds it in the sound of Meis’s breathy  _ ah, ah, ah,  _ and captures Meis’s lips as he buries himself in Meis’s warmth one last time. 

“Like that?” he asks when he finds his voice.

_ “Just  _ like that,” Meis says, limbs akimbo as he sprawls out. His face splits in a smile when he manages to open his eyes. “Mornin’, firefly.”

“Heh, morning,” Gueira murmurs. He kisses his mark on the slope of Meis’s neck before shuffling backwards and out of Meis’s way. “Gonna feel it in your meetings today?”

Meis hums in acknowledgement, rolling over and giving Gueira a split-second look at the come dripping down his thighs before he’s darting to the bathroom and starting the shower. “You can still join me, you know,” he calls.

“I’ll make you coffee instead,” Gueira yells back, realizing a bit too late it’s still  _ relatively  _ early and they’re still getting used to having neighbors. “Oops,” he continues, just to himself. He wipes himself down with Meis’s discarded underwear and tugs on a ratty pair of shorts. Light pools through the kitchen window and onto the floor as he pads out of the bedroom, making a beeline for the coffeemaker that’s  _ definitely  _ seen better days, but it’s  _ theirs  _ now, because they have a  _ place,  _ and--

He sighs contentedly as he pulls down the bag of grounds. It’s theirs, and no one’s coming to take it away this time. Meis can continue to sing in the shower for fuck knows how many more years, they can rest their heads  _ together  _ in an actual  _ bed  _ instead of a shitty cot in the middle of a dusty desert, and most importantly, they can have the life they spent so many nights dreaming of. 

Meis is out of the shower, toweled and hair dripping onto the floor by the time the coffee’s done. He leans forward to press his forehead into the curve of Gueira’s neck, mug radiating heat between them, and hums once again.

“What, baby?”

“Thanks,” Meis says softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but, uh...you’re still going to be late to work if you don’t get your ass in gear,” Gueira says, sheepish as he points to the clock.

Meis curses and sets the mug back on the counter, begging Gueira to put it in a to-go cup as he all but tears the bedroom apart in his quest to get dressed as quickly as possible. Five minutes later he emerges and somehow  _ still  _ looks effortlessly put together--a feat Gueira’s never been able to manage--as he accepts the new cup. 

“Regretting your decision?” Gueira teases.

“Fucking you? Never a regret.” Meis tips Gueira’s head down for a quick kiss to his temple before shoving whatever papers he has spread on the table into his bag and pulling on his shoes. “And yeah, yes, you told me so, I can see it in your eyes.” 

“I wasn’t going to  _ say  _ it,” Gueira says, accepting another fleeting kiss before he pushes Meis’s keys into his hand. “But I did, and you need to leave, so I’ll see you tonight.” He gives Meis a push toward the door and  _ just  _ as it’s shutting, tacks on, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

It’s really no surprise when he gets a message seconds later.

_ [Meis<3, 7:32 AM]: _

_ theres not a lot you won’t do, try again lol _

_ but I’ll be good, I promise ;) _

_ Can we get sushi tonight _

_ [Me, 7:32 AM]: _

_ hungry? _

_ [Meis<3, 7:34 AM]: _

_ yeah my man starves me _

_ [Me, 7:35 AM]: _

_ funny _

_ I definitely remember hearing “skip breakfast, stay with me” :P <3 _

Meis sends him a simple heart back, and after ordering him to grab something on the way, Gueira pours his own cup of coffee and leans back against the counter. Come what may, he is certain of Meis’s feelings, which is more than enough to keep the wolves--or, well, Freeze Force sympathizers--back from the door. 

This new life is  _ theirs,  _ and it will be a good one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
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